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THE LAST MAN ON EARTH

Raine Weaver

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Angrily shoving his foot into his shoe, he silently cursed his awkward way with words. She was a beautiful woman. She’d want compliments and romance, want someone to tell her how desirable she was—not just shove champagne down her throat and hope for a moment of weakness.

Why couldn’t the power go off before the television belched out that last, cryptic sentence? She was so preoccupied with fearing the apocalypse, she couldn’t give him a second thought.

Damn, damn, damn, dammit--why couldn’t doomsday have waited another forty-eight hours or so?!

He frowned at the frowning face in the mirror. Maybe, subconsciously, he had wanted her to see him naked. Maybe it was his way of compensating for not being able to express himself with words. Maybe, without knowing it, he thought it might nudge their relationship to another level.

Maybe he was full of it, and should stick to woodworking and leave the psychology to the shrinks.

Sighing in resignation, he finished dressing and galloped down the stairs. Iris was sitting on the sofa, staring into the fire and nibbling the edges of one of the sausages.

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“I left the eggs sitting on the kitchen counter, Iris. Thought you might want to cook those yourself.” She didn’t seem to hear him.

Had something else gone wrong?

Impossible. There was nothing left to go wrong. He moved closer, leaning cautiously in. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She chewed slowly, shifting her gaze toward him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“If you really thought this might be your last day to live--what would you do with it?”

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. That was easy. He’d screw her silly, rest a bit, and have at it again. And then he’d hold her in his arms, comfort her, and assure her they would certainly be spending whatever eternity might be beyond this together. There was no deity, no demon, no dark plane that could keep him from her. And then he’d oh-so-eloquently tell her how much she meant to him, and lose himself inside of her one last time…

But he couldn’t tell her that. Not here, not now. Not under these circumstances, even if he knew how. “Iris, this is not…”

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“I know, I know. I know you keep telling me it’s not ‘The End’.

But you said I could ask you anything. So, suppose this was it?

Suppose there was no tomorrow? What would you do with today?”

He’d never given it any serious thought. After all, he was still a young, healthy man with a lifetime of tomorrows ahead of him.

Wasn’t he? “Hell, Iris, I don’t know. Maybe have a bottle of my favorite wine, listen to some nice music--and pray my ass off, hoping it’s not too late. How about you?”

She took a big bite of the meat and chewed vigorously. “If I knew this was the end? I don’t think I’d like to go out being celibate.

I think I’d like to have sex with you. And since we’re not sure one way or the other—do you think you might consider it?”

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C H A P T E R 4

He watched her scoop up the last of her scrambled eggs, enjoying every mouthful, as if it was her last meal on earth.

He, unfortunately, had not been able to swallow a bite.

“Okay.” Iris finished the small sample of orange juice he’d provided and, satisfied, sat back in the dining room chair. “I’m relaxed. I’m well-fed. I’ve taken the time to think things through, just as you asked. Can we have sex now?”

He blanched, using his fork to stab his cold sausage in frustration. “Iris. This is not something to be taken lightly. Just because there’s no electricity—”

She laughed, and the sound of tinkling light filled the old, cold house. “You think I want to have sex with you because there’s nothing on television?”

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“I didn’t say that. I think…I just don’t want you doing something rash under duress, something you’ll regret afterward.”

“Suppose there is no afterward?”

“Stop that! Everything is fine!”

“But just suppose—”

“No. Let’s have you just suppose.” A wee, small voice somewhere in the back of his head was screaming at him in its wee, small way: “what the hell are you doing, man?! She wants us!!”

No, it didn’t seem to be coming from his head at all; it was coming from a lower, far more sensitive extremity, one that seemed to be making him feverish and edgy and more impatient by the minute.

“Suppose this is all, as I said, just the result of a pre-winter storm and some freakish blurb of dialog we picked up at exactly the wrong time.

And suppose, due to this misunderstanding, we go ahead and do this—this thing you’re suggesting. How are you going to feel when the lights come back on?”

She nodded slowly. “You mean, will I still respect you in the morning?”

“You think this is funny?!” he retorted. “I’m serious! I promised your brother when he went into the Navy that I’d look out
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for you, take care of you. We have a life-long friendship going here, a business partnership, and I don’t…” He paused, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I don’t want to lose that.”

Her smile faded into softness. “That’s either the sweetest thing anybody’s ever said to me, or—or you’re trying to let me down easy. If you don’t want to have sex with me, Russ, just tell me. I’ll understand.”

“I never said—”

“I mean, we’re not talking serious commitment or anything.”

“It’s not that—”

“And it’s not as if we’re total strangers.”

“I’m just worried that—”

“Then you’re saying it would be alright for us to climb all over each other if we were not friends?”

He pounded the tabletop with both fists. “God, woman, you’re making me crazy here!”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing,” she persisted. “I don’t expect you to suddenly get the hots for me because I suddenly want to ‘do it’. I know you don’t think of me that way. But I’d handle all the preliminaries, do all the persuading, take care of everything.

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You could just sit back and enjoy--or tolerate, whichever you prefer. I mean, it’s not about lust or anything silly like that. We could just be fuc…er, sex buddies. Just for whatever time we might have left. I’d try to make it worth your while.”

“Dammit, Iris, here I am trying to be noble, and…” He paused, eyes widening. “What did you say?”

She looked downward, her cheeks coloring slightly. “I said I’d spare you the effort. I said I’d be happy to seduce you. Or give it a try, anyway.”

He fell back in his chair, his body boneless.

Dear God. It really was the end of the world…

“We could start now, if you think you can manage. I’d like to get as much in as possible.”

He blinked, then blinked harder, his thoughts losing the race against his hormones. “Iris? That is you sitting there, isn’t it? I mean, you didn’t have any memory lapses last night, or dreams about being abducted by aliens?”

“It’s almost funny,” she said wistfully. “Here I was, wallowing in celibacy because the jerk I was with wanted sex without an
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emotional relationship--and now I’m propositioning a man who just wants a relationship without sex. Isn’t that funny?”

Oh, yeah. Funny. He was laughing so hard inside his testicles ached. “I…I don’t know what to say—”

“I think it’s the right thing to do. It’s strange that we never think of these things,” she mused. “We live as if we’ve got all the time in the world. Well, I don’t know how much time I’ve got left. I guess nobody does. And I’d like to squeeze in as much living as possible.”

Russ stuttered, choking on the words he wanted to say to her, the words he couldn’t find.

“You’ve always been so sweet, so caring, so honest with me,” she said gently. “I can’t think of anybody I’d rather do this with.”

He brushed the pang of guilt quickly aside, his eyes focusing on her generous mouth, and what it would be like to have it prompt him into hardness, to have her slip those taut, round nipples into his mouth, to feast until she begged for something more…

And he wouldn’t have to say a word? No bumbling attempts to explain his feelings, no coaxing, no persuading, no seduction?

He leaned forward in his chair, ready for action. Even if it was the Judgement Day, God would understand. He was, after all, a
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masculine God. Everybody knew that. “You said something about starting now?”

A delighted smile spread across her face. “You agree then? You really don’t mind?”

He humbly shrugged, reaching for her hand. “You’re one of my best friends, sweetie. I think I understand. If this is the end, I wouldn’t want you to check out feeling deprived, or denying yourself the pleasure of one last sexual encounter. Let’s go upstairs and—”

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s cold up there, and I don’t want to waste any time. How about right here, on the couch in front of the fire? Will that do?”

He was dizzy, actually deliriously dizzy with excitement. “Well, if that’s what you want, I’ll try to manage. For you.”

“Good!”

She pushed away from the table and grabbed his hand, eagerly leading him to the sofa. He blindly followed, his mind muddled with disbelief. After all this time, and all his wasted planning, she was really going to be his. And he didn’t have to cloak the proposition in champagne, or worry about getting tongue-tied and flustered.

It was a gift.

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He watched her from behind, already imagining what it would be like to get his hands on that tempting tush, to feel her feverish against him, to savor her mouth, rather than resign himself to the usual friendly peck on the lips.

Russ took a deep breath, trying to control himself. If he wasn’t careful, she’d wonder why he was already hard enough to cut diamonds.

She placed him in the center of the sofa and sat beside him, chewing the nail of her forefinger. And there she sat. And sat, forever, it seemed to him, nibbling away. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to appear relaxed, fervently praying that she had not changed her mind. “Okay,” he ventured, trying to sound casual. “Here we are.”

“This is sorta awkward, isn’t it?” She gave a nervous, tittering laugh. “It’s just occurred to me that I’ve never seduced a man before.

Never had to.”

“I don’t suppose so,” he muttered, a pang of jealousy knifing through him. “That’s probably all Gary and Milton ever thought about.”

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“Why do we keep coming back to Milton Edwards? I told you I never slept with him.”

This was not the time to provoke an argument. This was the time to fulfill his fantasies. “Sorry. Guess I just feel like neither of them deserved you. And this is a tricky situation for me too. I’m not accustomed to being so…passive.”

She smiled, resting her hand on his thigh. “I think I like that.

That makes this more of a challenge, more interesting, doesn’t it?”

God, if it were any more interesting he’d shoot the works before she even started.

“Let’s start with the clothes. We’re both a little over-dressed for this. Your shoes—no, no, let me,” she said as he started to kick them off. “Having sex was all my idea, remember? Just let me take care of everything.”

Russ stared, fascinated, as she dropped to her knees to remove his socks and shoes. He had not been undressed by a woman since the day he’d decided he was old enough to do it himself. And once he was aroused by a sexual partner, he was far too aggressive to wait for such niceties. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel like a sheik being serviced by his favorite harem girl.

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The delicious ideas it evoked amazed him. It was like giving in to a craving for candy.

She was right. This was going to be very interesting…

Iris rose, standing between his wide-open legs, and tentatively fingered his tee. “Is it okay if I take your shirt off?”

“Well, I—”

“I know it’s a little cool in here, but it won’t be painful. I’ll try to keep you warm.” She grinned, obviously beginning to enjoy herself.

“And I promise not to bite—unless, of course, you want me to.”

“Sure.” His voice sounded strained in its attempt to be casual.

“I guess it’d be okay, if that’s what you want.”

She smoothly lifted the black shirt over his head and folded it neatly beside him. “Mmmm,” she murmured, surveying the package she’d unwrapped and sending a prickling heat skipping along the back of his neck. “Very nice.”

She tangled her warm fingers in the thick hair on his chest, bending forward to inhale deeply, drawing in the scent of him. “You smell good. All strong and woodsy. I never paid much attention to the smell of a man before. It must be the lack of distractions here, huh?”

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His toes curled against the hardware floor, dying inside.

Her hands swam along his forearms and chest, and he nearly choked when her fingertips grazed his sensitive nipples. “I like your body. It’s cut and clean, with just enough muscle to handle yourself without seeming too bulky.” She skimmed the breadth of his shoulders and clucked her tongue. “Your shoulders are tight as bowstrings. All this stress. We’ll have to get you to relax.”

Leaning into the cut of his legs, she began a deep, vigorous massage of his shoulder muscles. But there was nothing relaxing about it. For every deft twist of her arms, her breasts jiggled mere inches from his face, and he tensed even more, unable to suppress a groan this time.